Chapter 16
Cyrus
THE TRAINING SESSION HAD GONE better than expected. Students now filed out with better form, better control, actually listening instead of trying to prove they didn’t need instruction.
Ember settled on my shoulder, his flames steady and patient. He didn’t display the aggressive blaze from a month ago but something calmer.
I was teaching instead of commanding, explaining instead of demanding.
Strange how that felt like progress.
I found Marigold in the library two hours later, surrounded by wellspring data. Shadows under her eyes, hair escaping its bun, she was too focused on charts to notice my approach. She definitely looked like someone carrying too much weight alone.
Take a break, I said.
She jumped. Death, Cyrus. You can’t just…
Combat hall. Now. I was already walking.
Behind me, I heard her frustrated sigh followed by footsteps.
Good.
The combat hall was empty. Private.
Hit something, I said, gesturing to the practice dummy. It helps.
I’m not a combat witch.
Everyone needs to release tension. I moved behind her, guiding her hands into proper stance. Basic fire evocation. Nothing complicated. Just let it out.
Her magic sparked uncertainly, necromancy mixing with borrowed fire and flickering blue at the edges.
That’s it, I said quietly. My hands adjusted her shoulders and her hips, getting her aligned. Focus on what’s stressing you. All that weight. Push it into the flame.
She tried. The fire guttered.
Again.
Cyrus…
Again.
This time, flame actually hit the dummy—small, barely scorching, but there.
We worked for twenty minutes, her form improving and flames getting stronger. Not because she was becoming a combat witch, that would never be her strength, but because she was learning to release instead of just holding.
To trust that letting go didn’t mean losing control.
When she finally stopped, breathing hard, some of the tension had left her shoulders.
Why? she asked, turning toward me.
Because you carry everything alone. The truth came easily. Your father’s legacy. Your friends’ safety. This whole war. You need to release some of it.
You recognize that because you do it too.
Yeah. I pulled her down to sit on the training mat. Been carrying the weight of being first heir since I was old enough to understand what that meant. Perfect weapon. Perfect soldier. Never weak.
Ember settled nearby, his patient flames casting warm light.
My father raised me to be a weapon because weapons don’t feel loss the way people do. He taught me control was everything. That caring made you vulnerable.
You’re not a weapon. Her voice cut through my self-perception. You’re a person with very destructive magical abilities. There’s a difference.
Despite everything, I laughed, genuinely. When you put it that way…
I’m serious. Her hand found mine. You’re kind when you think no one’s watching. Patient with students. That’s not a weapon. That’s a good man trying to be better.
Something cracked in my chest. The wall I’d maintained since childhood—since my father taught me caring was weakness—was finally breaking.
I pulled her closer. Her head settled on my shoulder. My arm wrapped around her, holding without crushing. Heat radiated between us, keeping her warm.
Her breath slowed against my collarbone in comfortable silence.
Then my phone shattered it.
Keane’s emergency tone—the one that meant now.
I answered. What?
Corruption breach in the wellspring chamber. His voice was clipped, controlled panic underneath. Students tried to cleanse it themselves. It’s spreading to them. Marigold needs to be there five minutes ago.
On it. I was already moving, pulling Marigold up with me.
What…
Wellspring. Now.
We ran.
Keane’s portal opened directly into the chamber access corridor. He was there, Wisp at his feet, maintaining a barrier between the chamber entrance and the rest of campus.
Three students bypassed the wards an hour ago, he said immediately. Detection system flagged early-stage re-corruption. They thought they could handle it before it embedded. Now it’s latched on to them and is spreading. If it reaches their cores…
How long? Marigold demanded.
Minutes. Maybe less.
She moved toward the chamber entrance, but I caught her arm.
Plan first.
There’s no time for—
Plan. First. My voice carried command I hadn’t used with her before.
She stopped and looked at me. She understood.
I go in, she said quickly. Cleanse the corruption off them. You hold the perimeter. Anything tries to spread beyond the students, you burn it.
Keane? I asked.
Extraction portals ready the second they’re clear, he confirmed. Elio’s mobilizing the healing ward.
Go, I said.
Marigold went through the barrier. I followed immediately, Ember blazing on my shoulder.
The wellspring itself pulsed with wrong energy—early-stage corruption threading through it like poison trying to take root. We’d cleansed the same signature in December, but it was coming back.
Three students were on the floor, red-black shadows spreading across their skin. They’d tried to stop it before we could return.
Marigold dropped to her knees beside the nearest student, her necromancy extending immediately. Scout abandoned her shoulder, taking up position near the wellspring itself to help her track the corruption source.
I positioned myself between her and the wellspring, my fire blazing, ready to intercept anything that tried to spread while she worked.
Marigold’s breath hitched as her necromancy connected. It’s fighting, she said, her voice strained. The wellspring is trying to push the corruption toward me, showing me where it’s deepest in them.
Her hands moved faster, following something I couldn’t see.
Good, she murmured to the wellspring. Yes, there. I’ve got it.
She was talking to it. Like it could hear her. Like it was helping.
It’s embedded, she said, her voice tight. Deep. I need to pull it out carefully or I’ll damage them.
How long?
Thirty seconds per student. Maybe more.
Two minutes total. I could hold for two minutes.
Corruption lashed out from the wellspring—testing, probing, looking for new hosts. My fire intercepted it instantly, blue-edged flames consuming shadow before it could reach Marigold or the students.
She worked with focused precision. Her necromancy dove deeply into the first student, tracing every thread of the master’s death magic and pulling it out strand by strand.
The corruption fought back, trying to spread faster than she could cleanse. It reached for me, for her, for anything living.
I burned it all. Flames everywhere—controlled and precise—nothing got past me.
First student clear. Keane’s portal opened immediately, the medical team pulling them through.
Second student. Marigold’s hands shook slightly from the effort, but her magic stayed steady.
More corruption was lashing out, stronger now, like the wellspring itself was angry at losing its hold on the students.
I met it with fire that didn’t waver, didn’t question, just burned. Second clear.
Third student.
It’s guiding me, Marigold said, not looking up from the student. Sweat beaded on her forehead. Showing me the pattern before I get there and making this faster.
Her necromancy dove deeper, more precise than before, like she knew exactly where to look.
I felt another corruption surge. My fire met it, consumed it.
Third student clear.
We need to cleanse the wellspring itself before… Marigold started, her hand pressed against the stone rim. She paused, her eyes unfocused, listening to something.
Later, I said, pulling her toward the extraction portal. You’re exhausted. One mistake could collapse the entire campus infrastructure. If Keane’s containment holds, we cleanse it properly tomorrow.
But it helped us, she said, looking back at the silver pool. It’s still trapped in there with…
Tomorrow, I said firmly. You’re no good to it if you pass out mid-cleansing.
She bit her lip, guilt clear on her face. Tomorrow, she said, softer. Then she said to the wellspring. I promise I’ll come back.
Whatever she felt through her necromancy made her shoulders relax slightly. Some kind of response I couldn’t sense.
Now, Marigold.
We went through the portal.
The medical center was controlled chaos. Medical teams worked on all three students, pulling the last traces of corruption from their systems. Elio coordinated with calm efficiency, his illusions helping healers see exactly where the corruption remained.
Marigold tried to help, but I caught her hand.
You did your part. Let them do theirs.
I should—
You should rest, I said. My voice held steady, even as heat pressed behind my ribs. You pulled blood magic out of four people at once while it fought you. If you push again, you’ll crack, and I’m not watching that happen.
Her lips parted like she wanted to argue, like she couldn’t stand the idea of stopping.
I tightened my fingers around hers—one firm pulse of contact, both an anchor and a boundary. For a moment, I thought she’d fight me.
But then her shoulders sagged, exhaustion finally dragging her down.
Okay, she said.
Ember shifted on my shoulder, his flames banking low with the relief I refused to show.
I guided her to a chair in the corner and sat beside her. I kept my hand on her back, grounding and steadying.
She didn’t thank me, just leaned into me like she’d meant to all along, like I’d always been the one she’d look for when things broke open.
Keane appeared after the immediate crisis passed, looking tired but satisfied. All three students are stable. They’ll recover fully.
Good, Marigold breathed.
You saved them, Keane said. If you’d been thirty seconds slower…
He didn’t finish. He didn’t need to.
Elio joined us, Echo’s scales shifting to relieved greens. The wellspring’s contained. Early-stage re-corruption, same pattern as Vienna and Prague. We’ll cleanse it properly tomorrow when everyone’s rested.
Re-corruption, Marigold said quietly. Our wellspring. It came back.
Which meant Tokyo and Vienna hadn’t been exceptions. Whatever we were cleaning, it was being fed from somewhere deeper.
And students tried to handle it because we weren’t here, I added. Not accusation. Just fact.
We couldn’t be everywhere. That was the whole point of the regional teams, the detection network, and the training protocols.
But clearly it wasn’t enough.
My phone buzzed before anyone could respond.
Parker: Tokyo again. Third site this week. Ten days since we last cleansed it.
Ten days.
Shorter than it should have been. Shorter than cleansing should have allowed.
I looked at the exhausted faces around me—Marigold barely upright, Keane swaying on his feet, Elio’s illusions flickering from magical exhaustion.
Tomorrow, I said. We deal with Tokyo tomorrow.
If we had anything left to give.
A second-year student—Garcia, one of the three we’d pulled back from corruption—appeared in the doorway. Her eyes found me.
Lord Raynoff. Formal. Uncertain. Can I…
Just Cyrus. I stood, moving away from the others to give them space. What do you need?
She glanced at Marigold before looking back to me. I wanted to apologize. We thought… the detection alarm was screaming, you were off campus, and we figured someone needed to act.
You did what any capable witch would do, I said. You saw a threat and responded.
But we made it worse.
You tried to protect campus when we weren’t here to do it.” I met her eyes. That’s not failure. That’s exactly what we need people to do.
Even if we nearly died?
Especially then. Because it means you’re willing to act. I paused. The problem isn’t your courage. It’s that the threat level requires more than courage. More than standard training.
She nodded slowly. The re-corruption. It’s not normal. Is it?
No. I decided to be honest. It’s something we’re still figuring out. But you bought us time to get there. That matters.
Some of the guilt eased from her expression. Thank you.
After she left, I returned to find Marigold watching me.
That was kind, she said quietly.
That was honest, I corrected. They tried. The system failed them, not the other way around.
We just needed to build something better.
Before the next crisis hit.
Later, after the healing ward had settled and the students were sleeping off the worst of the corruption effects, the four of us ended up in Keane’s suite.
We were exhausted and rattled but alive.
That was close, Elio said quietly.
Too close, Keane agreed.
Marigold was pressed against my side, her head on my shoulder. She wasn’t seeking comfort exactly—just gravitating toward solid presence after crisis.
I kept my arm around her, steady and certain.
She’d turned to me in that corridor—no hesitation, no debate. She’d shown absolute certainty when hesitation would’ve cost lives.
My role was decisiveness, enforcement, and protection.
Thank you, Marigold said against my shoulder.
Always, I said.
And meant it.
MUCH LATER, AFTER THE OTHERS had settled in for the night and I’d finally convinced Marigold to rest, I sat alone in the common area.
Ember perched nearby, his flames steady.
I’d spent months believing I was optional, one of three, easily replaced if I couldn’t learn to share.
But today had proven otherwise. She’d needed immediate, decisive action—Keane’s steadiness to keep the world from fracturing, Elio’s clarity when everything got tangled, and my absolute protection when delay would cost lives.
They needed me the same way I’d needed each of them for the things I didn’t know how to carry alone.
We were all essential.
I’d been fighting to prove I deserved to be here, but turned out I’d been necessary all along.
My phone screen still showed Parker’s message. Another site needed us, another crisis building while we caught our breath.
Being necessary meant something else always needed doing.
Good thing I was built for it.